I'm Here
by Shawanda94
Summary: The man's knife was to her throat and suddenly all Tony saw was sand and cement and the dark eyes that still haunted his nightmares. Post-Somalia, Tiva if you squint, T for mild violence.


**So I got this idea yesterday and I never got the chance to actually write it down, and it wouldn't leave me alone at school today because I was so scared I'd forget it! (That, unfortunately happens a lot...) Lucky for me and all of you, I didn't! :) So read, enjoy, and leave me a review!**

"Why is it always a warehouse? Why?" Tony muttered as they tried the main door of the huge warehouse. Rolling her eyes at him, Ziva went to work on the lock. Seconds later, it clicked open and all four agents pulled their guns out.

Stealthily, they cleared the front part of the warehouse. Gibbs silently motioned for Tony and Ziva to take the back, while he and McGee went upstairs.

Tony took one side of the large room, and Ziva took off in the other direction. Tony briefly wondered whether they should have split up or not. He shook his worries off, thinking she could take care of herself. They weren't really expecting this guy to be at his storehouse, anyway.

Of course, right as this thought crossed his mind, there was a clatter from a few feet away, and Tony caught a glimpse of a dark figure running through the dim aisles. "Federal agents!" he called, "Come out with your hands in the air!"

Naturally, the guy didn't listen, and Tony sighed as he lost sight of him. "Ziva, comin' your way!" Shaking his head, Tony quickly moved toward his partner, clearing the aisles as he went. "Ziva?"

"Here," she called quietly from behind him. Turning, he lowered his gun. "You see him?" he murmured. She silently shook her head. Tony rolled his eyes. "See? Warehouses. I _hate_ warehouses."

Ziva smiled gently at his proclamation. "He might have gone up front again." Tony nodded and they started cautiously moving toward the door they came in. He scanned the room, checking behind ridiculously huge boxes and cartons. When they finally reached the last aisle, Tony groaned at the sight of an open door leading outside. Lowering his gun he said, "Must've slipped outside after he saw me. Better tell-" Ziva's yelp followed by the sound of a gun hitting the cement floor cut him off.

Tony whirled to find his unarmed partner grappling with their much larger suspect. His knife was to her throat and suddenly all Tony saw was sand and cement and the dark eyes that still haunted his nightmares. The blistering sun burned into his back and whatever chemicals that crazy bastard had injected him with swam through his veins. Before he knew what had happened his gun was in front of him and the man was on the floor with a hole in his head.

Ziva quickly kicked the knife away from the man's unmoving form. He was clearly dead, but she still checked for a pulse. Finding none, she slowly turned to face her frozen partner. He still held his gun in front of him, and he was staring at the man as if he half-expected him to get back up. Knowing they had only moments before they were joined by a frantic McGee and Gibbs, Ziva softly murmured his name. "Tony," she whispered. He blinked in acknowledgment, but did not move. "Tony," she repeated softly.

This time, he met her eyes. She took a deep breath and tried to ignore all the emotions she saw swimming around in his gaze. "It's okay, Tony. It's okay. Give me the gun."

Again he blinked, and seemed to come back to himself a little. Cautiously, Ziva stepped closer, holding out her hand. Tony didn't hesitate when he handed her his weapon. The moment it was in her hand, she heard Gibbs yell their names.

"We're good," she shouted back, not breaking eye contact with Tony. Seconds later, Gibbs and McGee rounded the corner. "Good?" Gibbs asked again, questioning the look on both of his agents' faces. Ziva nodded, finally looking away from Tony.

"'Scuse me," he muttered, quickly walking away through the open door. Gibbs watched the concerned look on his youngest agent's face as her partner left. "What happened?" he asked gently.

"He had a knife to my throat and was about to use it," she answered, referring to the dead man at their feet. "Tony didn't let him."

"I see that," Gibbs commented dryly. McGee was still somewhat in the dark about Tony's reaction to shooting the man. It was most certainly not the first man he'd killed, and probably wouldn't be the last. Tony didn't usually get this worked up about it. Clearly, though, Ziva understood.

"Go," Gibbs said. Immediately, Ziva followed in her partner's footsteps. She found him outside, by the back wall of the warehouse, sitting on a crate, breathing heavily. Slowly, she approached him, not wanting to startle him, even if he was no longer armed. She knew exactly what had just happened. What was most likely still happening. The similarity of the knife against her throat just now to what had happened in Somalia was not lost on her. Tony hadn't shot their current suspect. He'd shot Saleem.

She knelt in front of him, her dark eyes capturing his. He found himself unable to look away even when she reached down to grab his hand in hers. Slowly, steadily, she brought it up to her throat. Her pulse thudded under his fingers, heavy and strong. Gently, she moved her other hand to his throat, finding his racing pulse and feeling it gradually slow.

She didn't need to say anything because her eyes said it all, just as they always had. _I'm here. I'm alive, and so are you..._


End file.
